


jump into the fog.

by katarama



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [17]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Asexual Character, Asexual Derek Hale, BDSM, Bondage, Dom Lydia Martin, F/M, Future Fic, Kink Negotiation, Nipple Clamps, Polyamory Negotiations, Sub Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 20:28:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5262365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If you want something, you have to ask politely,” Lydia says, softer but no less firm.  “If you need them, I can get the cuffs.”  She skims the tips of her fingers along the pale softness of Jackson’s inner arm, her light, lavender nails standing out against Jackson’s skin.  Jackson shivers, though whether it’s because of Lydia’s words or Lydia’s touch, Derek can’t tell.</p><p>Jackson looks torn, and Derek… can’t say it’s a feeling he understands, considering the circumstances.  Derek can’t really put himself in Jackson’s shoes at all, though that’s part of why he’s there.  To see, and maybe, to understand a little bit better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	jump into the fog.

Derek winces harder than Jackson does when Lydia fastens the delicate pink nipple clamps on Jackson’s chest.  Jackson’s hand reaches up to touch, maybe to adjust, but Lydia’s voice cuts through the silence, a sharp, “No,” that freezes Jackson in his tracks.

“If you want something, you have to ask politely,” Lydia says, softer but no less firm.  “If you need them, I can get the cuffs.”  She skims the tips of her fingers along the pale softness of Jackson’s inner arm, her light, lavender nails standing out against Jackson’s skin.  Jackson shivers, though whether it’s because of Lydia’s words or Lydia’s touch, Derek can’t tell.

Jackson looks torn, and Derek… can’t say it’s a feeling he understands, considering the circumstances.  Derek can’t really put himself in Jackson’s shoes at all, though that’s part of why he’s there.  To see, and maybe, to understand a little bit better.

 

 

Jackson and Lydia came back from college, less dysfunctional and more intertwined than when they left, and had their sights set on Derek.  The flirting was overt and unsubtle, from Jackson, especially, and Derek was as nervous as he was endeared.  Derek had dread in the pit of his stomach when he told them he was ace, expecting that they’d lose interest; he was relieved when the nature of their interest changed, instead, turned to something he was more comfortable with, more courting and less ushering him into bed.  When they started officially dating him, they were respectful, never suggesting he give up his space and his bed at the apartment, or trying to loop him into their intense, whispered discussions of sex.

Derek knew it was going on around him.  He would catch a whiff of lube and arousal on days Jackson couldn’t sit still in the apartment, or of sweat and slick and Jackson’s mouth coming from Lydia’s underwear.  He knew where Lydia’s toys were kept; they had a whole shelf to themselves in her giant closet, sorted by color and material.  Days when Jackson was rougher around the edges, Lydia set aside days for them, gently warning Derek there was sex involved, but that they were going to disappear for a few days.

In one sense, it was a relief.  It was everything Derek could ask for in a relationship, the knowledge and comfort that they would never pressure himself to do anything that made him uncomfortable.  They could satisfy each other’s sexual needs just fine without him, and had been for ages.

But he already felt like he was looking from the outside in, dating a couple who had been together longer than he’d been back in Beacon Hills.  And as much as he appreciated that they respected his boundaries, not being included in… whatever it was they were doing in the bedroom…

It was just another way to feel left out, like he was missing out on something important and deeply emotional.

So he talked to them about it, and now he’s here, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room and watching Jackson’s eyelids go heavy as Lydia fastens padded handcuffs around his wrists, the nipple clamps even more pronounced with Jackson’s arms stretched above his head.  

“Good,” Lydia says when she’s finished, Jackson’s hands resting above his head.

“Thank you, Lydia,” Jackson intones dutifully, easy as breathing.  He looks relaxed, even as the strain the position puts on his body makes the physical tension more obvious.  

Derek has never seen the way anyone else has done this to know if what Jackson and Lydia do is unique, but the longer he watches, the more he realizes that what they do suits them perfectly.  Lydia lays out goals for Jackson, things that _sound_  simple from where Derek is sitting.  “Keep your hands still, Jackson” when he strains against the cuffs watching her take her time opening herself up with her fingers, and “no coming until I do” when she covers him in a condom and slides herself down on his dick.  But they aren’t easy, and Jackson struggles with them, working hard to obey without complaint.

Jackson is more quiet than Derek’s ever heard him, though he resolutely obeys Lydia’s earlier command, speaking up timidly, his voice straining over “ _please_ ”, whenever there’s something he needs.  Derek would’ve figured Jackson for loud in bed, demanding and pushy like he always is, but he’s stunned by how Jackson actually is, pliant and wrung out, quietly handing himself and his body over to Lydia.  He gets noisier when he’s close, when she tugs at the clamps and squeezes tight around him, deliberately spurring a loud, long moan from his mouth.  

But Lydia is so very obviously in control, her words layering expectations and praise, verifications that he’s okay and reminders that Derek’s watching.  They always jolt Derek, give him feelings of surprising intensity, the warmth of being included and the shock that accompanies the spikes of arousal he can smell from Jackson whenever Lydia mentions his name.  Lydia soothes Jackson with her hands as she calmly and assuredly issues filth from her mouth, “even Derek can see what a slutty boy you are”.  It feels like even though they’re in their own little world, a world he doesn’t want to physically be a part of, there’s still a place for him there, woven into words and slipped into quiet speech that humiliates Jackson as much as it gentles Jackson down.

When Jackson finally gets to come, writhing and whimpering under Lydia, Derek feels overwhelmed.  He’s not really hard, though both of his couple are sweaty and smeared with their own slick.  He’s emotionally affected, but not really as affected as he could be, sexually.

He can practically see Lydia shifting her focus as she undoes the cuffs, broadening the world out from her and Jackson to include Derek in their little bubble.  Lydia sets down the cuffs and rubs at the skin of Jackson’s wrists, finally looking Derek’s way.  

“Would you like to help with aftercare?” Lydia asks, and Derek gets intensely nervous.  He told them he doesn’t want to be involved in things on a sexual level, and he doesn’t know what aftercare actually entails.  He’s not reassured until she continues.

“It’s the most important part.  Just kissing and cuddling, a little bit of talking.”

“Oh,” Derek says, breathing a sigh of relief.  “Yeah.  I’d like that.”

“Come over here, then,” she says, and Derek eases himself out of the chair to meet them on the bed.

Jackson comes back to himself slowly, though he’s still soft.  That, more than anything, makes the experience rewarding to Derek.  He gets to see Jackson quiet and relaxed, abandoning the posturing and pent-up aggression that he still hasn’t entirely lost from his high school days.  He gets to wrap his arm around Jackson and tell him in quiet words that he is proud of him, gets to kiss Jackson’s lips and thank him for letting him watch.

It’s a lot to process, so he snuggles up to his couple and lets everything wash over him.  But while Jackson dozes off, he lies awake, thinking.

 

* * *

 

 

He sits on it a while, because he has mixed feelings.  He _does_  feel like he understands his couple better, now, in a way.  He was immersed in the familiarity and trust between them.  He got to share the quiet moments with them afterwards, the moments where Lydia was gentle and kind and proud.  He came out of everything feeling like he was more a part of their relationship, like he was somehow more connected to the essence of Jackson and Lydia’s relationship that he least understood.

He feels torn, though, about whether this is something he wants to repeat.  It’s something he could easily call a successful adventure and abandon, but now that he’s seen it, it’s hard to come to terms with choosing to remove himself from these experiences when he _knows_  there is something deep and important he’s missing.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to agonize for long.  When he explains his thoughts to Lydia, he’s relieved by the fact that, as always, she has an answer that settles him.

“Jackson and I used to engage in nonsexual kink sometimes,” Lydia says.  “If you liked that part of it, we could have scenes you could share with us with no sex.”

“Thank you,” he says, deeply relieved.  “I’d like that.”

A week later, Lydia’s scarves make an appearance while they’re watching a movie, and Lydia runs her hand through Jackson’s hair while Derek feeds Jackson pieces of popcorn.  At the end of everything, Jackson is just as mellowed and loose as the time before, and when the scarf is undone, Derek feels just as relaxed.

Jackson and Lydia happily compromised for him, and it worked for all of them in a way Derek never expected.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com)


End file.
